


A Woodland Sprite

by SeaofTopaz



Series: Portraits [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hair Braiding, Married Couple, Married Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, POV Sansa Stark, Parents Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaofTopaz/pseuds/SeaofTopaz
Summary: Sandor is the woodland sprite in this one. His daughters love to braid his hair, and so does his wife.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Portraits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978948
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	A Woodland Sprite

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second work! I’d love it if you’d check out my first called “That Stupid Smirk,” which shouldn’t be too hard to find considering the brevity of my portfolio right now.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! Thanks!

“Are you grooming me, little bird?”

Sansa ran her slender fingers through his hair. “Of course not, love,” she replied innocently, pecking his temple with a kiss. She continued to plait a small piece of his dark hair and tied it at the end a black ribbon.

“Good because I won’t be seen walking around Winterfell like some fucking woodland sprite,” he muttered, letting his eyes fall shut. 

She knew he secretly enjoyed her attentions, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. After all, he was the epitome of masculinity, the Warrior in the flesh.

He laid on the bed, resting his massive frame against the headboard, and she lounged next to him, silently plaiting more strands. They sat in comfortable silence. The only sound came from the gentle crackling of the evening fire in the hearth. It’s warm glow danced over the furs on the bed and across their bare skin. 

When she finished, she draped herself over him with all the familiarity that comes with twelve years of marriage. With one hand under his chin, she turned his head and mock pouted, “Is it so terrible to be fawned over, my lord?” She gave a quick peck on his lips. 

He ran his calloused hands through his hair, feeling the corded strands. He huffed and sighed, “Fatherhood must be turning me soft.” She grinned back up at him. 

With a raised eyebrow, he looked down on her lithe body, still slim (and impressively flexible) even after bearing four children: their rambunctious twins Eddard and Brandon, quiet and reserved Serena, and their youngest spitfire Lyarra. 

While the boys gave grief to the cooks, constantly stealing freshly baked sweets from the kitchen, the girls loved braiding her copper hair. But when she was occupied as the Lady of Winterfell, they played with his, being the second best option, naturally. 

It was always quite the sight seeing her scarred lover sitting on the forest floor with their two little girls dancing and giggling as they wove flowers in his hair. 

“Hmm,” Sansa hummed, contemplating something. She moved from laying in his arms to straddling his thighs. In an instinctive gesture of possession, he ran his hands up her long legs and to her soft waist. She gave him another sweet kiss, drawing a moan from his lips, but pulled away before he could respond. She flashed a devilish smile that always proved to heat his blood. She twirled locks of his hair, sensually bringing his lips back to hers as she slowly started to grind her hips on his hardening cock. 

“Fatherhood has kept at least one thing hard,” she quipped. 

He groaned into her mouth and pulled her firmer against him. They began the dance they perfected years ago and performed often; the dance that continued to prove more and more gratifying with each time. They made love slowly. She paid particular attention to his hair, grasping it tighter as she climaxed breathlessly. He too finished with a low groan, resting his forehead against hers. 

He gently laid them down into the warm furs with Sansa laying on top of him languorous and contented.


End file.
